


Out of Touch

by ClockworkKeaton



Category: Splatoon
Genre: F/F, Femslash, No Lesbians Die, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 16:01:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15392331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockworkKeaton/pseuds/ClockworkKeaton
Summary: Agent 8 doesn't fit in with Inkling society as seamlessly as she'd like. Luckily, neither does Agent 3.





	Out of Touch

**Author's Note:**

> A small taste of something because I'm literally out of fics to read about these two and ready to cry about it. Enjoy? Enjoy.

Going in public with Eight was literally never going to be 'easy as that'.

It seemed like a consistency, really-- if they didn't get derailed by the Octoling's sense of adventure and curiosity, then her naive and sheltered way of thinking led to  _something_ or another. Three was patient with her, at least as patient as someone like Three was capable of being, but that didn't make it any less overwhelming for a girl who was so used to sticking to herself and avoiding socialization as much as she possibly could. Eight was practically a  _magnet_ for attention.

As much was evident by the way she was, ah.... glaring down an Inkling couple holding hands across the street.

"Hey," Three hisses under her breath, nudging the other girl with her elbow briefly. "Cut that out. They're gonna turn around and see you making that face."

Eight seems to consider this for a moment before shrugging, her gaze averting back to the drink in her hand. She didn't seem too bothered by the reprimanding but it certainly didn't answer any questions Three had about any of this.

"Sorry, guess I didn't realize how long I had been staring." Eight explains coolly. "I don't think they're paying much attention to us anyways."

Well, no, not really, but that was only because the two were practically gushing over one another and too busy giggling about it to look around for more than two seconds. Three keeps that much to herself though; it didn't exactly help her point to concede Eight was probably right, and her pride wasn't going to have it either. Instead, the older girl simply sighs, her hands tucking into the pockets of her jacket as she glances over at Eight.

"Seriously, what's up with you today? You keep looking at those two like they owe you money."

"Oh, it's nothing like that." Eight replies with a tone that assures Three the sarcasm was absolutely lost on her. As usual. Ah well. "It's just a little strange how touchy Inklings are, I think. There's always a few around here holding hands or grabbing onto each other or something. Sitting in each other's laps, playing with each other's tentacles... that sort of thing."

Three snorts.

"That's it? You just got weirded out at a couple in public?"

Eight seems to mull over her response for a moment, a hum caught in her throat as a thoughtful expression passes over her features. It was a couple thing, then? But... what exactly was? There was obviously a level of affection that was commonplace among friends too, so where exactly was the line drawn to make it something so... like that? Was it just how obnoxiously cutesy they were about it or something else altogether? She truly has no clue.

"Mm... I wouldn't say  _that's_ it. Just that Octolings usually aren't quite as handsy." She explains with a shrug. "Maybe it's because there's not much reason to be. You know, since Octolings come from tentacle sheering and not---"

"A-Alright, alright, I get it." Three cuts her off before something bluntly crass is thrown out carelessly in the middle of the plaza. The last thing she needs is someone overhearing  _that_ and reporting them for indecent conversation. Or, at least, that's her excuse to take attention off of the deep teal blush burning in her cheeks and ears. "Still though? Is it really that unusual to see?"

"Maybe I just can't see the appeal myself." Eight sips her drink. "I've never exactly been around anyone I'd be doing something like that with in the first place, you know."

The Octarian army hardly fostered any affectionate pre-dispositions either. Sure, there were people she considered friends but they were more friends of convenience than anything, people who would save her life on the battlefield but who likely would never even know her name. A little ironic considering she doesn't remember that herself these days, but that was neither here nor there. As limited as her experiences with even the Inkling concept of love were, there was certainly no room for her to speak when it came to any of... that.

"Besides, it looks a little awkward, doesn't it? Just... holding someone like that for no real reason." Her nose wrinkles. "Seems sweaty."

"Wouldn't know." Three snorts. "I'm not exactly running around holding hands with everyone I meet either."

"Never then?"

"Never."

Their conversation is interrupted when Three gets back to her feet, offering a brief stretch before tossing her trash in a nearby garbage bin. Lunch with friends always left her feeling recharged in a very particular way even if she wasn't exactly the sort to say as much. Eight made for good company though, even if she was a chore to handle at times. At the very least she was far less energetic and actively irritating than Four, who likely would have cost twice as much to feed on top of that.

Eight follows suit, disposing of her empty cup and food wrappers before trailing behind Three. The silence that passes between them is short lived thanks to a small, sudden noise of confusion on Three's part when she feels the cool touch of sharp claws wrapping around her own calloused hands. Octoling fingers were plenty intimidating from the opposite end of the battlefield, brightly colored like a poisonous fish and with enough of a point to gut you with a degree of determination, but it's in this moment that Three can't help but realize she's never really... felt them before. The nails themselves may be smooth and long but the points were surprisingly rounded and Eight's skin was just  _soft._ Far softer than she expected. 

"W-Wha--?!" Three stammers, glancing over at Eight for any sort of explanation. Her ears flatten against her skull in embarrassment when she notices the couple from earlier sparing a glance in their direction and giggling with that same cutesy,  _cursed_ amusement from earlier. She probably looked about as teal as a glob of ink by now, and felt about as structurally sound to boot.

"It  _is_ kinda sweaty." Eight simply murmurs.

Despite that, fingers twine and she makes no move to let go the entire walk home.


End file.
